by Tony Roberts
Her eyes went still, and she didn’t know it but instinct had taken over. Her eyes changed; now they appeared as slits, like a cat’s. The tiniest of movements were seen and acted upon. The stone flew and smashed into the water, striking the fish, stunning it. The current took the fish with it straight past where Faer was standing and she scooped it up in one fluid movement, wrapping it in the cloth.
She returned triumphantly to Markus’ side. “Fresh fish for supper,” she said, sitting down and producing her knife. Her eyes were back to normal.
“What about a fire?” Markus queried, beginning to struggle up.
She put a hand on his chest. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.” She looked him in the eye. “You’re in no fit state for anything. You can watch me instead.”
“Not a bad idea,” Markus muttered.
“Mmm?”
“If you say so, Faer.”
She nodded and lopped off the tail, head, fins and then slit the underside, pulling out the gut and cutting that off. She examined it carefully, then sniffed. Didn’t smell bad. She washed it in the river and then put it on a stone, leaving it for a few moments. The riverbank held much flotsam including many dried out pieces of wood. Within moments she’d collected enough for a funeral pyre. Then she picked out Markus’ fire kit and assembled it. She looked at him. “Is that right?”
“Hold that fully upright. Yes that’s it. Now put the kindling on the block – yes that’s it. I’ll blow; I can do that at least.” He knelt up and leaned forward. As Faer worked on spinning the piece of wood, Markus watched for the tell-tale beginning of smoke. It finally appeared, which was timely as Faer’s breath was becoming ragged through effort. He blew a few times, then added a few fried twigs which caught and soon they had a fire going on top of a large slab of rock.
The fish was impaled on a long thin piece of wood and suspended over the fire. It was turned a few times and after a while Faer cut a piece off and tasted it. “Mmm, wonderful.” She sliced pieces off for him and then her alternatively, and they ate their fill on the large dull green river fish.
“I could get used to being served like this,” Markus said afterwards as they lay alongside one another, their backs to another big slab of rock. Sometime in the past there must have been a huge rock fall. “You can be my slave any time you like, Faer.”
“Ha! From what I’ve heard my father’s people were the ones who took slaves, so if any of us will end up the other’s slave, it’ll be the other way round.” She grinned at him. Then she grew serious. “Aren’t you worried I’ll turn out like a typical dark elf? I mean, nothing I’ve heard about them – and its only legend and hearsay – sounds good.”
“You don’t seem to be any of those, Faer. Perhaps it’s the way they’re brought up. You were brought up by a human, lived amongst humans. All you have as part of your elfin heritage is blood.”
She shrugged. “It may slowly change me; we don’t know.” She looked at him. “If I look as if I’m changing, get away from me; I might end up being cruel, sadistic, bloodthirsty and everything else like that.”
“But you’re my friend.”
“A friend because I’m me as I am now. That would change if I change.”
“But –“ he looked at her, his eyes roving over her face and figure.
She caught his look. “Oh, Markus, forget all this ‘beautiful’ rubbish. Being beautiful to look at isn’t how you should judge a woman. Look into her heart, look into her soul. That’s what’s important, what is inside. Would you prefer a beautiful goddess who sacrifices children and drinks their blood, or a plain looking woman with the kindest, sweetest heart and generous manner?”
Markus sighed and nodded, looking away. “I know what you’re saying.”
“So promise me – if I look like I’m turning into a vicious beast of a dark elf, get away from me. Please.”
“I-I...” he looked distressed.
“Oh Markus,” she said heavily. “Let’s change the subject. Tomorrow we leave the boat and set off on foot. The bank is pretty big, all these rocks and what have you. We should be able to make our way along without too much trouble.”
“Hopefully we’ll get to this Blade Mountain sooner rather than later.”
She agreed. She looked at the sky. It was beginning to deepen in colour. “It’s getting dark. Come on. Let’s unroll our blankets and get sleep. Both of us are tired; we should sleep.”
They arranged their beds and threw some rocks away that were digging up into them, and finally they were satisfied and lay down. Markus, tired though he was, couldn’t settle. The pain in his hands didn’t help. He looked over at Faer who stirred and opened an eye. “Can’t sleep?”
“No – I think I would if we were cuddled in. Relaxes me.”
She looked at him blankly for a moment, then nodded, pulling her blankets round. “How do you want me? Don’t want to bump your hands.”
“Put your head on my chest. Yes, that’s it. I think I’ll go off now.” He put an arm round her shoulders, settled down and looked sleepily at her black hair. He couldn’t see her face but it didn’t matter. He felt at peace, and sighed deeply once, then closed his eyes.
Faer was awake longer than him. She stared out across the river, thinking, then finally she was lulled by his heartbeat, comforted by the fact it had settled down from racing like mad when she had lay down against him initially. She snuggled in deeper against him and shut her eyes. Sleep came soon after.
The following day they were on their way fairly promptly. The aches and pains of the previous day had largely faded and they made reasonable time. Markus had to be careful not to use his hands too much. Faer led the way, more to make sure the rocks they stepped on were stable. They rounded a bend and saw that the river widened and deepened. It almost formed a lake. “Wow,” Markus said.
“Hmm. Look, over there, a jetty and a small village.” She pointed over to the other side. Huddled on the lakeside were ten or so buildings and a dock. “If we back track to the last rapids we can cross over. Won’t take long.”
They turned back, came to where the river narrowed and formed shallows and stepped across, jumping from rock to rock. One large jump almost caused a problem but they negotiated it in the end. Markus wasn’t the most agile of people. They made their way along the opposite bank and found a narrow path clinging to the hillside ten feet above the level of the water. They thankfully climbed onto this and trudged along to the village. They approached above the jetty, looking down at it. It was a stout pier of wood, but no boat or ship was moored alongside. A large building led from the jetty and houses were scattered about from the water’s edge up to the start of the immensely high mountain that sprang from the ground almost straight up a thousand feet or more.
As they peered up in wonder, Faer drew in her breath. “Look!”
Markus followed her pointing finger. High up they could see a balcony, and as their eyes became used to the shape and contours, they could make out windows, walls and stairs. They looked at one another, eyes wide. Had they found Kaltinar?
Excited, Faer led Markus into the village. There was little sign of life, but when they had almost got to the other side, an aged man appeared from a garden, holding a cutting from a plant. “Oh, excuse me,” Faer said. “I’m looking for Kaltinar.”
“Good day, young elf blood,” the man bowed. “And to you, young sir. You have found Kaltinar. What is your business here?”
Faer jumped in excitement and clapped her hands. “Oh! I-I’m supposed to go there to learn the blade skills.”
The old man looked shrewdly at her. “Is that so? Then you had best make your way up to the reception. They have not had an initiate for a few years now. They will be interested to see you. Very interested indeed. Come this way and I shall show you the way.”
He walked, his back bent with age, along towards the cliff over to where the rock came close to the waterside. Here was a large water wheel, but there was no mill. To the rear was a staircase and on t
op of this a small cage-like contraption with a rope snaking up a long way to a rock outcrop, perhaps halfway up, where there could be seen a rail and a platform. They could see that another rope came down from this parallel to the first and ended on the water wheel.
“Uh – is this the way up?” Markus said, swallowing.
“Yes – very safe.”
“Oh – I-I don’t know…”
Faer looked up, squinting in the early morning sun. It must be five hundred feet up. “Come on, Markus, it’ll be exciting.” She went up the stairs and got into the creaking basket-cage. Markus hesitated, but reluctantly followed.
She was surprised to feel him shaking. “Scared?”
“No!” he denied it vehemently. “Just – never been in one of these before.”
“Neither have I.” They watched as the old man pulled a lever and water began flowing along a narrow channel, released by a lifting panel, and it began turning the wheel. Instantly the basket creaked and they jerked into life, rising the height of a man in a heartbeat. “Whooo!” Faer said, holding her stomach.
Markus gripped the edge of the basket for dear life, whimpering, and shut his eyes tightly.
“You sure you’re alright?”
“Yes! Just don’t say anything until we get there!”
Faer shrugged and peered out as they rose in a jerking motion. The land fell away and the view was spectacular. She drew in her breath and marvelled at the panorama unfolding before her very eyes. Markus’ hand gripped her arm. She gently disengaged it and held his forearm. “You’ll hurt your hands again.” Holding him reassuringly, she took in the mountain scenery and the river as they rose higher and higher. Finally the platform came into view and they rose up until they came to a halt, the platform on three sides, the basket only five feet above it and the wheel the rope ran through another ten feet above them.
She tugged his arm. “C’mon, we’re here.” She jumped down onto a rock ledge, Markus following in relief. They stood before a carved wall, in the middle of which was an opening through which a carved stone staircase began rising. As they made their way to this the basket began falling back, the operator clearly wishing for the basket to return to the ground as soon as possible.
The stairs ran straight for a long distance, climbing up on steps five feet wide and half a foot deep. Faer led, Markus three steps behind. The stairs turned to the right after a while and the daylight spilled in from above. Looking up she could see sky again, high up past towering pinnacles of rock.
So far they had seen nobody, but now the new set of steps ended in a building, set on a level piece of rock. This was a stone block construction with a steeply pitched roof of flat stone. Two windows greeted them, shuttered, and a door stood facing them, shut. Faer went up to it, looked at Markus, then knocked. There was no response, so she turned the single handle and it swung down. The door opened inwards.
She took a deep breath and stepped into a wide room. The entire interior of the building was one room, so it seemed. The opposite wall was a balcony that opened out onto a wide fortress with windows, doors, walkways, flat areas, walls, battlements, towers and men and women making their way around. “Oh, Markus – look!”
The two stood on the balcony, looking in amazement at the vista before them. There seemed no way down from the balcony though. Faer looked round and saw a rope dangling. Above it was a large bell. “Ring for attention?” she asked aloud.
“Go on – might as well.”
She giggled nervously, then rang it violently three times. All activity stopped and everyone turned to see who had rang the bell. Faer put her hand to her mouth. It was intimidating. Two men came walking across the large grassed flat area below them, fifty feet down or so, and picked up a long ladder. They manoeuvred it up with a little difficulty, but finally pushed it against the balcony. They stepped back and waved them down. Faer went first, not liking the way the ladder bounced and flexed, but she gritted her teeth and grew in confidence, especially when the two men took hold of the ladder and stabilised it.
Markus took a little longer, what with his nerves and injured hands, but he finally joined her on the grass. More people had gathered by this time and crowded to see who it was who had turned up. Many were sword-carrying people dressed in black and yellow. The colours of Kaltinar?
“Hello,” Faer said nervously. “This is Kaltinar, isn’t it? The Blade Mountain?”
“It is,” a grey-haired man answered, standing to the rear of the crowd who had parted for him. “Who do I have the honour of addressing?”
“This is Markus of Selanic, and I am Faerowyn.”
The man bowed slightly to Markus, but stopped in mid acknowledgement to Faer. “Who, did you say, young lady?”
“Ah, F-Faerowyn. Is there something wrong?”
The man stepped forward, his face inscrutable. He looked her over very carefully. “No, young Faerowyn, nothing is wrong. I am Blademaster Territus, the senior teacher here at the school of Kaltinar. You must be tired after your journey. Please follow the initiate here who will show you your quarters. Once you have settled, I wish to see you. All new arrivals must have an interview with me; it’s to be expected,” he smiled. “In the meantime, please hand all your possessions over to Bladesman Rapport here. Don’t worry; you will be reunited with them when you are interviewed.”
Faer unslung her sword and pack and slowly handed them over, as did Markus. The crowd dispersed, but talked amongst themselves, pointing at Faer and whispering. She felt a little uncomfortable at that. It reminded her a little of Selanic. A young black-dressed male stepped in front of them. He was younger than the two. “Please follow me,” he said and turned round.
He led them across the grassy area to the end where the land fell away. Here there was a rocky lip and then steps led down to a lower level, stone floored. Many of the doors to accommodation stood here, and there were three levels of these, one above the other, arranged in a rough semi-circle. They were led to doors on the ground floor. Two consecutive doors were opened for them. “Choose which one; it matters not. You will be called for when it is time.”
Faer shrugged and chose first. She walked in and looked round. The room was oblong, going in deep. It was the width of two men’s height and four deep. One window looked out the back, allowing in plenty of light and she went over to it. She gasped, her hands going to her face.
The view was simply spectacular. The room was a thousand feet up and looked out over a series of mountain ridges, none higher than her viewpoint. Rivers twisted far below, and away to the right she could make out a forest growing in between the ridges. “Oh – that’s so beautiful!”
Reluctantly she tore her attention away and looked at the furnishings. One bed, wooden framed, not sagging, clean, blankets. No pillows but there was a tall cupboard and when she opened this found two pillows in there. She placed them on the bed and examined the rest of the room. A low table, a low stool, a bedside table and lamp.
A privy stood to the right, opposite the cupboard – something she’d missed at first. Good – the plank over the hole was moveable and when she did so she gulped. The hole dropped straight out and the bottom was the valley floor below. Lucky the hole was so small. She replaced the plank.
She went back to the window and leaned on the sill, gazing over the scenery. It must be the most beautiful view in all the world, surely. She was still looking at it when Markus came in. “Have you seen the view…oh you have. Wow.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “This must be the outer wall. It’s like a castle, isn’t it? You seen that thick wall off to the right? All those big buildings there. They must be the offices. Bet we get called there.”
Markus sat down on the bed. “Well, Faer, you’ve done it. You’ve got here. Now what?”
She sat down next to him. “No, we’ve made it. I could never have done this without you, you know. Thank you.”
He smiled. “Alright, we’ve made it. So, what now?”
“I suppose we’ll lea
rn what is expected of us. My father said I must pay my way with the bag of coins I’ve brought here. I am to learn what I can to help me in my search for my heritage, whatever that may be.”
Markus nodded. “It’s funny, while we were making our way here, I had no thoughts about myself, but now we’re here, I find myself thinking my usefulness is over. I’m no warrior; I’m a fisherman, or maybe a merchant. I won’t find anything here for me.”
“Oh, there’ll be something, Markus, just you wait. Listen to the Blademaster – I’m sure he’ll give you ideas.”
A few moments later the initiate reappeared and asked Markus to accompany him to see the Blademaster. Faer was surprised; she thought she would have been the one summoned first, but she no doubt would find out in due course. She lay back on her bed and found it to be comfortable. Better than all the beds she’d been in, except the Lace’s. Her thoughts went to the kindly couple, and hoped they would end up fine. The war was coming to them and she wished them both well.
It was nearly dark when the initiate came for her, and she followed him out, her heart beating.
ELEVEN
The Blademaster’s office was indeed amongst the large buildings by the thick battlemented wall. There were steps leading up to a huge platform-walkway, and the office entrance was up yet another flight, past sword-wielding guards and into a complex of rooms, linked by passages. She could easily have got lost if not for the initiate.
Candles were being lit when she was shown into his office. It was a comfortable room with shelves and shelves of books along two walls. Another wall was given up to swords hanging from brackets and the last was a shuttered set of windows, no doubt looking out onto the courtyard. “Welcome, Faerowyn.”